


Falling Home

by Gemcrow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, BAMF Harry Potter, BAMF James Potter, BAMF Lily Evans Potter, Dimension Travel, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Food Issues, Harry Potter Has Issues, Harry Potter Has Nightmares, Harry Potter Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Hurt Harry, Hurt Harry Potter, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, James Potter Lives, Lily Evans Potter Lives, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective James Potter, Protective Lily Evans Potter, Protective Remus Lupin, Protective Sirius Black, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23944228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemcrow/pseuds/Gemcrow
Summary: Fem!Harry Alt Universe Post GOF Warning- this story deals with PTSD and abuse.It started like this: a girl who knew nothing outside of her aunt's shrieks and her uncle's fists and her cousin's hateful glares for the first ten years of her life.It started like this: the twinkle of starts who witnessed a wrong that demanded to be balanced.It started like this. It ended like this.Harriet Potter never knew of anything outside of a hateful family and the weight of the whole of the Wizarding World's expectations. She never knew anything outside of loss and hate and pain. So, when she unexpectedly finds herself in a different reality, she isn't as surprised as she probably should be.
Relationships: Harry Potter & James Potter, Harry Potter & James Potter & Lily Evans Potter, Harry Potter & Lily Evans Potter, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Remus Lupin & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Harry Potter & James Potter & Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 29
Kudos: 234





	1. Of Darkness and Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to this new story! Before you begin, I thought it would be nice to give some information.  
> This is set after Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire  
> This is a female Harry, alternate universe fanfiction.  
> Warnings: This story will deal with abuse, PTSD, anxiety, and depression. If this is triggering to any of you, I suggesting taking great care xxx  
> Now, on with the story!

It started like this: screaming and death and a flash of green light coupled with laughter filled with malice and hate.  
It started like this: a girl who knew nothing outside of her aunt’s shrieks and her uncle’s fists and her cousin’s hateful glares for the first ten years of her life.  
If started like this: a stone that held immortality, a man whose fear of death contorted him so completely he became it.  
It started like this: a chamber of secrets, an escaped prisoner, a deadly tournament, and a dark return.  
It started like this: an archway in a vacant room whose murmurs and secrets and wisps of pearly white smoke grew more and more frantic, swirling together in a tumultuous storm of need.   
It started like this: the twinkle of starts who witnessed a wrong that demanded to be balanced.   
It started like this. It ended like this.

***  
Harriet Potter of Number 4 Private Drive was most decidedly not having a good summer. Not only was she stuck in the confines of her childhood home after witnessing the return of one of the darkest wizards of all time, but she was also incredibly bored. It had been three weeks since the end of term and two since she had heard any news from her friends whose letters had been distinctly unhelpful in their vague tone. Not only that, but her days were filled with meaningless and distinctly undesirable chores that her aunt desperately fabricated to keep her from her “freakish nature”.  
An intense pang of hunger struck Harriet as she exhaustedly collapsed onto her bed. Her skin felt overheated and tender from gardening for hours on end with very little protection against the sun’s harsh rays. This, she lamented, was one of the worst summers she had ever had.  
The last rays of sunlight slowly fell away, leaving her in a quiet darkness that, rather than lull her into an uneasy sleep, seemed to suffocate her with its sharp fingers that clawed at her useless eyes and her useless face and her useless body. No, she was not going to get any sleep tonight.  
A soft hoot sounded from the end of her bed, where Hedwig was perched in a cramped cage, her eyes staring intently at her with a sympathy that she expected from her friends after hearing about her rotten summer, not her owl.  
“I’m alright girl, just tired,” she tried to reassure, smiling softly at her companion.   
Hedwig merely hooted again in a tone that sounded more like a huff of annoyance as she turned her head away. It appeared that she was not only able to scare away her friends this summer but also her owl. Great, just great.  
Harriet sighed again, carefully shifting in a pointless attempt to avoid jostling her ribs as she tried to get comfortable. The night’s silence pounded in her head like a living thing. Like blood and pain and memories and desire. It swelled in intensity, a symphony’s finale, a deafening and pulsing sound.   
Hang on, that was most decidedly not in her head Harriet thought as she carefully sat up in her bed, her hand grasping uselessly at her shoulder as it twinged painfully. What was that?  
Hedwig hooted in distress as she flapped her wings uselessly in her cage. Something was very very wrong.  
Voices could be heard, now, in frantic whispers of anger and concern from all around her. Harriet quickly grasped her wand as she looked around, desperately trying to find the source of that horrible, melancholy sound. Yet, the more her eyes feverishly scanned her room the more useless her attempts appeared as the darkness started to slink from the corners of her room like an animal approaching its prey.   
“Balance, balance, balance we must have. A price is to be paid,” a horrible voice seemed to hiss from her left ear, although Harriet couldn’t tell if it was said aloud or in her head.  
Harriett desperately tried to open her mouth, to shout a spell, any spell, but the darkness appeared to erupt from her mouth, stopping any sound that escaped her throat. It swirled, closely around her, wrapping round her eyes like a blindfold. She could no longer tell if she was awake or asleep, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated. The darkness was the same with her eyes open and closed.  
“Balance, balance, balance we now have. The price is now paid.”  
Nausea and panic and fury and pain fought for dominance within her throat. She didn’t know how much more of this horrible darkness she could take. The darkness thickened, becoming a viscous, syrupy substance that filled her lungs and her blood. It was infinite and never-ending. It was all that there ever was and all that would ever be. It was life and death and air and earth. It was infinite and finite, expansive and minute. It was here and it wasn’t.  
And then, light.

***

James Potter was truly, undeniably late. His morning had been hectic from the start, seeing as Harry had decided to flooed at four in the morning from a mission in the USA, frantically asking if veritiserum and the calming draught could be mixed together. From there, he had accidentally caught his breakfast on fire (much to the great exasperation of Lily), discovered that his only clean work robes were, in fact, dirty, and to round it all off, realised that they were out of floo powder to get to work. So, when he skidded into the offices forty five minutes late, his face flushed from running, he should not have all been surprised for another great shock.   
Moody and an unspeakable were both waiting for him, stony faced and slightly pale. “About time you arrived, Potter,” Moody exclaimed, grasping his shoulder none too gently to haul him from the offices. “Honestly, of all days to be late!”  
James murmured half conceived apologies and excuses until Moody’s stony face stopped him.   
“Someone was found in the Death Chamber this morning.”  
“What?” James startled, staring incredulously at his boss. “How? That is one of the most secure rooms in the whole of the ministry.”  
The unspeakable stopped in front of them abruptly, in front of the interrogation rooms, turning to face him gravely. “That’s what we want to know”. She then casually wave her wand in front of the door to gain entrance, followed by Moody and, after a moment’s consideration, James.  
Before him, through the one way wall that Lily remarked closely mimicked the muggle’s one-way mirrors, was a pale, skinny girl with wild black hair and wild green eyes that were scanning her surroundings feverishly. She seemed misplaced in the stark grey room that leeched colour from its surroundings.  
“Who-” James started.  
“She claims her name is Harriet Potter,” the unspeakable remarked blandly, as if this situation occurred regularly. “She has refused to say anything else, though, and has proved to not only be uncooperative, but also quite hostile.”  
“We had to take her wand and use a sticking charm to keep her from ransacking the room,” Moody added with an exasperated growl. “She’s been here for going on four hours and has yet to give us any information. We thought, since you are known to handle children well in previous cases that you may have a better chance at getting through to her.”  
It was true. Over the years of working as an aurora, James had become fairly highly regarded in his handling of children in his cases. Lily claimed it was to do with “mothering” that he had shown for the Marauders throughout school, but James thought that it was more likely to do with the fact that he had a child of his own, and thus had ample experience in getting children to talk about things they didn’t want to.  
“I’ll certainly give it a shot,” said James, once again looking her over. The similarities to his own son were uncanny and, if James didn’t know any better, would think that they were somehow related. But there was no way that she was his and she didn’t look a day over thirteen whereas his parents had been dead for years.   
He went to step into the room but was stopped by the hand of the unspeakable. “One more thing,” she added, her resolve breaking slightly, “the wand that we apprehended is identical to your son’s.” With that, she quickly brandished the wand in question from the inside of her robes, allowing James to examine it carefully.  
“How did she get-”  
“It’s not Potter’s,” Moody stated. “We already contacted him several hours ago and he has his wand with him.”  
Frowning slightly, James nodded. “Well, let’s see if we can figure this whole thing out.”  
If he thought the girl was pale before, it was nothing compared to after she made eye contact with him. Before he had fully entered the room, her eyes had snapped towards him, and almost immediately afterwards, the colour fell from her face, making the bags under eyes appear like bruises.   
James quickly went to sit on the opposite side of the table, thinking that she may be intimidated by his height. However, that seemed to do little to help as the perplexing girl feverishly gripped the sides of her chair as if she could vanish from existence is she clenched hard enough.   
“Hullo,” James greeted, trying to make his voice as calm and unconcerned as possible. “My name is James. I was wondering if I would ask you a couple questions.”  
The girl merely blinked blankly at him, her face alarmingly void of all panic that had been there seconds earlier.  
“Don’t worry, you’re not in any kind of trouble,” he added hastily in attempt to appease the small girl. “We just wanna know how you were able to get into that room that you woke up in and who we should contact to let them know where you are.”  
Again, the girl simply blinked.  
“Your parents must be pretty worried about you being missing,” James tried to coax but was stopped short by her flat, acidic tone.  
“My parents are dead.”  
“Well, your guardian then. They must be alarmed to have you missing.”  
The girl merely gave a small, almost imperceptible huff.  
James tried to switch tactics. “You said your name’s Harriet Potter?”  
No reply.  
“It’s quite funny you say such a thing, really, as I’m James Potter and I really wasn’t aware of having a daughter. Or sister.”  
The girl’s eyes immediately narrowed and she quickly shifted closer to feverishly inspect him. “It’s quite funny,” she mimicked, an undertone fury making her words sharp, “because I really wasn’t aware of my dad being alive.”  
It was James turn to become speechless, only able to stare back at her in confusion.  
She merely sighed in exasperation, roughly raking her hands through her hair. “You’re supposed to be dead. No,” she added hastily, “James Potter is dead. So who are you? A deatheater?”  
James brows furrowed together against his better judgement. “What on earth are you on about?”  
“It really isn’t that impressive,” she continued, seemingly unaware of his interruption. “I know that my parents are dead so why the hell would you try to trick me?” She leaned forward again to look James directly in the eyes. “Well, it’s not going to work. You can’t trick me.”  
At this last statement, James realised how truly agitated the girl in front of him was. Despite her valiant effort at presenting a hostile front, James could see the undercurrent of anxiety in panic in the way her eyes fervently roamed the room and her hands grasped and released the chair in a silent desperation. James shifted forward in attempt to mimic her posture but didn’t miss the flinch she made at his movement as she quickly retreated. “I don’t know where you got that idea but I am very much alive. Look,” he exclaimed, pinching his hand softly. “Solid and all. Most definitely not a ghost.”  
The girl- Harriet- snorted at this before once again narrowing her eyes. “If you are who you say you are- and I’m not believing for a second you are- then you would know what your animagus is.”   
His heart stuttered as he stared at her in shock. Nobody knew who his animagus was, besides his friends and Lily. How on earth had she known such as thing? But, he admitted begrudgingly, if he was to get her to talk, he would probably have to admit it. Even if Moody would be in an uproar at the admittance of one of his best aurors being an unregistered animagus.   
“Stag,” he stated levelly, simply.  
Harriet started at this revelation, shifting uneasily. “I suppose lots of people would have figured that out. What’s your nickname with your friends? What map did you guys create? What was the first detention you ever got? What…” With every question, her voice raised in pitch and intensity until she seemingly forced herself to stop, taking a deep, stuttering breath.   
“Well,” James started, his voice slightly tense, “I must admit, I’m a bit surprised with these questions. I thought I was questioning you?” He asked lightly in an attempt to gain control of the situation again.  
She merely stared back at him, unimpressed by his evasion to the questions.   
“Prongs, the Marauders Map, got my first detention for colouring my transfiguration teacher’s hair to neon yellow. Now, ” he quickly added when Harriet opened her mouth to question him more. “I do believe that no matter how many questions I answer, you aren’t going to be believe I am who I say I am. Is that right?”  
The girl paused in thought before hesitantly nodding.   
“Okay, so, think of something that only I can do and I’ll prove who I say I am.”  
The girl again nodded before hesitantly stating “Your patronus, do your patronus.”  
James sighed before quietly conjuring the stag, who leapt around the room in a flurry of pearl white.   
The girl’s eyes only seemed to furrow further as she started to agitatedly scratch at her arms. “H-how? W-what? I don’t-”  
“I understand,” James started hesitantly “that you are rather confused. But so am I. You seem quite genuine towards the fact that you are Harriet Potter and that, if I’m right, James Potter is your father. Although, I am quite certain that I don’t have a daughter. Only a son, and he’s twenty-three years old.”  
“I-I don’t…” she started but James quickly intercepted to stop her from becoming any more upset.  
“It’s okay, we’ll figure this out. But to do so, I’m going to need your cooperation in telling me everything you can about how you got here, okay?”  
The girl looked him up and down uneasily before stiffly nodding. “Okay.”


	2. A Somewhat Extraordinary Reunification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James continues to question Harriet on her somewhat impossible appearance.

Harriet’s mind was running in dizzying, furious circles. Her stomach was in frenzied cramps. She could feel an unpleasantly cold sweat all over herself. Her hands were shaking, even while clenching vehemently to the handles of her chair.   
How how how was her father possibly standing before her? He was dead, he had to be. And how on earth, if this really was James Potter, did he not know that he had a daughter. And a son? She didn’t have a brother.   
Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the scraping of the chair as James stood. He glanced down at her with clenched brows and a glint in his eyes that Harriet couldn’t place. “Before we start, I’ve realised that I’m quite thirsty. I’m gonna go quickly get a cuppa. D’you want anything? Tea? Water? A snack?”  
This was most certainly an unexpected first question. And, now that he mentioned it, Harriet was quite hungry and her throat had a distinct cotton feel to it that came from thirst. But, even though this certainly seemed like her father, she couldn’t be sure it was. She couldn’t trust him. What if he put something in her drink?  
“No thanks,” her voice was more strained than she hoped it would sound but it seemed to appease James enough, as he gave a quick nod and exited the room.   
Logically, Harriet knew that the whole tea thing was probably an excuse to talk to whoever was on the other side of the wall, probably that strange woman and Moody. However, despite this, Harriet was grateful for the small reprieve that gave her a chance to gather her scattered thoughts. It proved to be fruitless as, by the time James returned carting two mugs and that mysterious woman, her thoughts were somehow in more chaos than they were to begin with.  
“I brought you some tea just in case you get thirsty,” James explained, gently placing a mug in front of her with a friendly wink. “I also brought my associate who specialises in, well, the room that you woke up in. Hopefully with her help, we can sort this out quickly, okay?”  
It didn’t escape Harriet’s notice that James appeared to look for her acceptance before starting any new topic and, despite the circumstances, Harriet was grateful. “Sure, yeah, fine.”  
James nodded in approval before continuing. “Okay, so I’m gonna start asking questions but if you need a break at any time, just let me know. So, where were you before you woke up in that room? Was there anything out of the ordinary?”  
Harriet took a slow, stuttering breath before nodding. “Er, yeah. So, I was in my bedroom,” she started before explaining that strange darkness in as much detail as she could.   
The woman, who had sat down beside James, nodded solemnly before scribbling in a notebook that she had procured from her robes.  
“What were you doing? Before, that darkness happened?” James asked.  
“Just trying to get to sleep,” Harriet shifted uncomfortably, knowing that her vague answer was going to spur suspicion.  
“Right, okay, Harriet. I must admit, I have absolutely no idea what is going on here. Janette, d’you have any ideas?” James question, a look of pure puzzlement on his face.   
“I have suspicions,” the strange lady admitted, looking at Harriet with such a keen eye that she had to look away uncomfortably. “But I think we should discuss it with Moody before…” she trailed off at this, giving a pointed look at Harriet.  
James seemed satisfied with this answer as he nodded in agreement before moving towards the door. “We won’t be long, Harriet, just gotta talk to my boss.”   
And with that, she was alone.

***

It surprisingly didn’t take long for James to come back, this time sporting a pale face and an irate Mad-Eye Moody behind him. James wasted no time, quickly sitting back in his chair and looking Harriet directly in the eye with a somewhat forced smile.   
“Right, so, we’ve agreed that it’s most likely that you’re not from here.”  
Harriet found herself blinking at him. “Well of course I’m not from here, I just told you I was at home before this happened.”  
James sighed in exasperation, the first sign that this situation was not entirely normal for him either. “What I mean is, we believe that you’re from an alternate reality.”  
“Excuse me?” Harriet found herself exclaiming before she could stop herself. “What the bloody hell do you mean? That’s from television shows! That’s not real!”  
“And what theories can you possibly think of?” Moody interrupted gruffly, his mechanical eye whirring dangerously.  
Harriet couldn’t stop herself from slumping down at this, confusion and anger and frustration fighting for dominance within her.   
“I know this is quite a lot to take in,” James started, his calm voice so at odds with the situation. “But we’ve got some really good people that’ll look into it. We’ll get you home in no time!”  
“But in the meantime,” Moody intercepted, “Seeing as they’re the most discrete and competent , you’ll be staying with the Potters.” Harriet straightened at this, looking over her dad’s- no- James’ form.   
“I-It’s okay, really,” she managed to stutter out. “I don’t want to impose, I’ll be okay on my own. I’m sure I can just rent a room out someplace.”  
“That won’t be possible,” Moody stated, shifting from his own seat towards the door. “Until we know what dark force brought you here, you’ll need to be supervised. Seeing as you’re a Potter in your own world, you might as well stay with the Potters in this one.” Without giving her another glance, Moody stiffly stood and left the room.   
James rolled his eyes towards the door before turning back to look at Harriet. “I know you’re probably anxious to get out of here, but my wife, Lily, was called here to meet you. As soon as she comes, we’ll be able to go back to our house.” His tone was level, almost carefree and Harriet wondered if he had experienced anything like this before. Even though she knew that she probably should care about the situation, about this new world, about her father that now stood in front of her, a deep, heavy exhaustion had suddenly blanketed her body, making her want to do nothing more than lie down and sleep forever.  
“Okay,” She managed to agree.

In the following half an hour, James attempted to make small conversation, retelling his hectic morning animatedly, explaining that his son, Harry, was an Auror like him away on mission, and that Lily was a part time teacher at a local primary school and a part time healer at St Mungo’s. Despite James rarely giving her a chance to speak, Harriet was comfortably relieved to not drudge up any further effort than listening to him. Perhaps he had done so on purpose, after seeing how exhausted she was.   
Both all too soon and not soon enough, there was a quick knock on the door before a red-headed woman quickly walked in. She smiled softly at Harriet before turning to James and giving him an earnest embrace, whispering that “Moody already explained everything to me” in his ear. He jerkily nodded once before they both faced Harriet again.  
“Hello, Harriet. It is so lovely to meet you.” Lily’s hands were as soft as her voice and despite today’s events, despite knowing better, Harriet found herself marginally relaxing enough to give a forced smile back.   
“You too.”  
“I’m sorry you two had to wait so long, I got held up with a potion at home,” Lily explained while opening the door and gesturing for her husband and Harriet to leave.   
Before, when Harriet was initially hauled to that room, she had little time to look around, too disoriented and dizzy from apparently travelling dimensions. Now, she had the luxury of observing many workers, Harriet assumed to be Aurors that were gathered round desks and tables, quietly conversing with one another. Sheets of paper intermittently flew through the air and into waiting hands while typewriters towards the back of the room appeared to be steadily typing by themselves.   
Both Lily and James paid no heed, walking directly towards the elevators at the furthest corner of the room. Several other people gathered in the small elevator with them when it eventually came, murmuring quiet greetings to the couple.   
Soon, much sooner than Harriet would have liked, she was being escorted into the grand main atrium where wizards and witches in formal robes walked briskly in various directions. At a small newspaper stand, a small, whispy looking wizard was seeking prices for the latest Daily Profit.   
“Two knuts, only two knuts if you buy a paper now!” He exclaimed.   
At the far side of the vast room, past the security desk, stood several grand fireplaces that wizards and witches were intermittently flooing in and out of. James and Lily lead her to the closes one, where James casually grabbed a handful before murmuring “Potter Residence!”, disappearing in a flurry of green flames.   
Harriet assumed that Lily would be quick to follow, but she stopped to glance back at her. “Have you taken floo before, Harriet?”  
Harriet was slightly surprised by this consideration but tried not to show it, quickly nodding and giving Lily what she hoped was a soft smile.   
“Alright then!” She smiled before handing Harriet some power. “You can go first. Just say ‘Potter Residence’.”  
Harriet gave another stiff, short nod before doing just so.   
Despite her experience of using floo, it appeared she would never be able to fully master it. She violently tumbled out of the spitting flames, soot coating her clothes, her face her lungs in a heavy blanket. She expected to be greeted with the bite of the hard floor but was instead steadied by firm hands.   
“Woah,” James exclaimed, standing her upright with surprisingly gentle hands. Before she could give a small thanks, the fire roared with green flames, a bright red head appearing along with the rest of her body. Lily casually brushed a small fleck of soot from her shoulder before standing upright and regarding the two closely.   
“Well, it looks like we all arrived in one piece. How ‘bout we give you a quick tour of the house and then I’ll make some lunch?” James was quick to agree before following Lily out of the room.   
As it turned out, the Potter’s residence was a cosy cottage on the outskirts of a relatively small town. The living room was comfortably furnished with comfy, deep green velvet couches, fuzzy rugs, and a roaring fire. Walls were lined with shelves that were packed with both muggle and wizarding books, along with random memorabilia that were stuffed into any open space. The dining room and kitchen continued with this comfortable theme that clearly proved that the house was well-lived in, loved, unlike the Dursley’s.   
James’ light-hearted voice brought her out of her revelry as they stepped onto the landing of the first floor. “To the right we’ve got Harry’s room, when he’s home that is. Up ahead to the left is the bathroom and our room and,” he continued as they neared the end of the hall “Here we’ve got your room for the time being.”  
Although small, the room felt spacious with its gaping windows, cheerful pastel colours that adorned the walls and the cosy bed in the corner of the room.   
“We’ll let you get settled in,” Lily started. “Feel free to take a shower and I’ll go see if I’ve got any clothes that you can use for the time being until we can go shopping. When you’re finished, just meet us in the kitchen.” And, with that, she was alone.  
Logically, Harriet knew that she should probably be quick to take her shower and join the young couple but she couldn’t help but pausing to glance over the room, her thoughts a violent, whirling storm within her. All Harriet really wanted to do was climb into that increasingly inviting bed and fall into an eternal, dreamless sleep. Why was it that all the weird, all the freaky, all the bad stuff always happened to her? Why on earth couldn’t the universe just give her a break? After all, it ha only been weeks since she witnessed the horrific return of Voldemort first hand.   
Harriet knew that her mind was turning in a dark directions and if she were to allow herself any more time at all to reflect on the past twelve hours she would work herself up into a state. So, she quickly gave one last glance to the room before shuffling to the bathroom to take a shower.   
The warm water felt like a godsend to her aching muscles and Harriet felt like she could stay under the stream forever. However, she knew that she was already pushing her luck by keeping the Potter’s waiting, much less stealing all the hot water, so she scrubbed herself harshly and efficiently before climbing out. Lily, it turned out, had left her folded clothes in front of the door, so she quickly dressed before folding the towel back up with care and making her way downstairs and into the kitchen.  
Already, steaming food adorned the small table in the corner of the room. James and Lily both sat, talking with such intensity that they didn’t notice Harriet was present until she hesitantly sat on a chair that was closest to the door.  
“Hey kiddo,” James greeted, giving her a crooked grin. “Help yourself to the food here. I suspect you’re starving.”  
Harriet was, indeed, very hungry. But, despite the kindness that the two had shown her, she still wasn’t sure if she could fully trust them. What if there was something in the food? Even if there wasn’t they probably didn’t really want her to eat any of their food. They were just offering to be polite. However, Harriet really was hungry, she couldn’t remember the last time she had a proper meal but she suspected that it hadn’t been for weeks. So, taking all caution to the wind, Harriet carefully placed a small helping of everything onto her plate.   
Both the Potters looked on so intently, so thoroughly, that Harriet half expected them to change their minds and take her plate from her. Yet, they merely gave her another moment’s consideration before filling the increasingly tense silence.  
“You’re probably incredibly confused and overwhelmed by everything that’s going on right now,” James started, giving her such a kind smile that Harriet wanted to cry. “And you’re probably more than a bit homesick so we’ll be doing everything in our power to get you home.”  
On the contrary, Harriet was ecstatic to be away from the Dursleys and their harsh words and icy glares. However, she supposed she did miss Sirius and Ron and Hermione and Remus. They would be getting worried about her soon.  
“So, Lily and I thought that it might be a good idea to find out about your life and any differences there are from this world and yours.”  
“That way,” Lily added, “we might be able to understand why you’re the one that traveled to this universe.”  
Harriet already had a pretty good idea of what set her apart from everyone else but was reluctant to share. All her life, she had been different somehow. Whether it was by the Dursleys and their fear of her freakish ways, or by her friends and classmates and teachers who all knew her as The-Girl-Who-Lived. Now, she was just a stranger. A mysterious stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. Harriet wasn’t quite sure if she could so willingly give up this twisted, small bit of normalcy just after getting it. She wasn’t sure she could.  
Nevertheless, she did have a duty to her friends and to Sirius and to Remus to go back- after all, it was her fault the Voldemort had risen to power again, that Cedric was dead. So, she guessed, that she would have to sacrifice this one bit of normalcy. But that didn’t mean that she had to tell them everything.  
“Okay,” she stated simply, stuffing a bite of mashed potatoes into her mouth. “What d’you wanna know?”


	3. Of Duplicates and Imposters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the lovely comments! They really made my day.  
> I know it's been absolutely AGES since I last posted but I'm hoping to be posting more regularly from now on :)

Of course, Harriet wasn’t going to expose her entire life’s story, even if it was to strangers who took the faces of her parents. Rather, she stared on intently, silently willing them to ask a question, hoping against hope that it wasn’t anything too personal.  
The silence dragged on for one beats, two, three, before, Jame’s eyes widened in realisation that Harriet was waiting for him to speak.   
“Alright, well,” he started, the confident air around him when they first met diminished greatly. “You mentioned that your parents- in your world, I mean- are dead? How’d that happen?”  
“James!” Lily exclaimed in horror, striking the side of James’ arm. Harriet couldn’t help but flinch ever so slightly.   
“No, it’s okay,” Harriet attempted to reassure, not wanting James to get any more bruises from a horrified wife. “Everybody’s always talking about it anyways.”  
Although the last comment was an attempt to lighten the mood, it did none of the sort, Harriet realised with a start, as the silence dragged on like a piece of bubble gum stretching.   
“Umm, well….” Harriet started before furrowing her eyebrows. “Do you guys have a dark wizard named Voldemort here?”  
The flinching of the name was answer enough.  
“Right, well, I guess that answers that,” Harriet chuckled, shifting in her seat. “Well, he went after them, my parents, I mean, and killed them.”  
The bluntness of her answer seemed to startle them, as they both leaned forward simultaneously, a duplicate shadow gracing their faces.   
“We’re sorry to hear that,” Lily replied.  
Harriet shrugged her shoulders in discomfort, as if to brush aside their sickening pity that was the very last thing she wanted. “It’s fine, I barely remember them. I was one the time they died.”  
Once again the silence stretched before them, taunting them, mocking them with its vastness.   
“Right, okay,” James nodded to himself as if still processing the information. “Normally I wouldn’t push the issue, but, seeing as we’re alive in this universe, I believe that more information surrounding our- I mean you parent’s- deaths might be needed.”  
Harriet resisted the urge to clench her chest as she felt her heart contract painfully. She wasn’t ready to become the Girl-Who-Lived in a whole new universe. She wasn’t ready for the expectations, the judgemental looks, the prejudice that seemingly came with surviving the killing curse. She knew it was selfish, she knew that she was probably subjecting hundreds of people to danger by withholding information, but she couldn’t seem to form coherent enough thoughts to explain.   
“Got lucky, I guess.” Her voice was colder than she had meant it to sound. Judging from the glances from James and Lily, they certainly weren’t expecting it either.   
Lily raised her eyebrows and, for a moment, Harriet was afraid she was going to push the matter. Instead she merely pushed a plate towards her and, in a tone that was very similar to Mrs Weasley, remarked “Have some more toast, dear.”  
Harriet couldn’t help but blink in surprise, glancing down at her empty plate and back at the offered food. She hadn’t even noticed herself eating. Before she could grab another slice, however, her stomach gave a painful lurch in warning. With reluctance, she pushed her hand back down and onto her lap before giving a strained smile at the couple. “I’m alright, thanks.”  
She didn’t miss the glance that the couple gave before looking back on her. She noticed, but couldn’t muster enough energy to care.   
“That’s alright, kiddo. There’ll be leftovers if any of us get hungry later,” James smiled at her before standing to clear the table.  
Harriet leapt up, grabbing the nearest plate in a movement that she hoped looked more enthusiastic and less frantic. “I-I’ll do it! You guys cooked breakfast!”  
A hand appeared in her vision and before she could properly process what was happening, Lily had gently taken the plate from her.   
“That’s alright, dear. I’m sure you’re rather exhausted from your impromptu trip. It’s perfectly fine if you need to go lie down for awhile.”  
As if Lily’s words were a trigger, Harriet felt her muscles heavy with fatigue, her eyes stinging with the need to close, to rest. But she couldn’t do that, it wouldn’t be fair to Lily and James if she left them to clean such a mess after they had been so kind to let her stay with them.   
As if sensing her reluctance, James turned around from the sink where he had been enchanting the brush to clean the dishes. “It’s alright, we’ve got it handled. Go take a nap.”

***

“What do you think?” Lily’s soft voice broke the companionable silence, where plates could be heard softly clinking against each other.   
James looked up from where he was wiping crumbs off the table to look at her. “I don’t know,” he started with a sigh, heavily sitting down. “There’s no doubt she’s genuine- she knows things she couldn’t possibly know unless her claims were true, but I just can’t warp my mind around it.”  
Lily set the cup she had been drying by hand down softly before going to sit with her husband. “I know what you mean. She’s just so different from any daughter I thought I’d have- what daughter I thought we’d have.”  
James chuckled lowly. “She’s certainly not like Harry.”  
A stretch of silence settled over the kitchen, both husband and wife lost in thought. A light drizzle had started outside, small droplets running down the window that overlooked their overgrown garden that they had attempted to maintain for almost four years before giving up. A low rumble rolled over the house as the rain got heavier.   
“You don’t think this is some sort of trick, do you?” Lily asked her voice much softer than before, as if afraid to break the tentative silence.  
“What, you mean like Deatheater trying to gain information?” James paused, gathering his thoughts before continuing. “It’s not someone with Polyjuice. She’s been monitored for hours now.”  
Lily hummed, encouraging him to continue.  
“That would mean, that if she is a Deatheater, that she really is a teenager. I just can’t see them using someone so young. Children are just too impressionable. And besides, she was too genuine.”  
Lily’s hum was the reply.  
“I don’t think she’s anything bad, but we’ll keep an eye on her just in case. You can never be too careful.”  
“Especially in times like these,” Lily agreed.  
“Especially in times like these.”

***

The bed was so soft. Too soft.   
Harriet sighed as she shifted positions for the hundredth time in minutes. It just didn’t make sense that she would have any trouble falling asleep with the exhaustion she felt. It didn’t seem possible. But then again, Harriet was known for doing the impossible. In everything including sleeping, it seemed.   
A last huff escaped her before she roughly grabbed her pillow and stood up, observing the room. Although the bed was towards the corner of the room, there was just enough room for her to sandwich herself between it and the wall. Perfect.   
But even in such a space that resembled her childhood, that was her childhood, she couldn’t shut off her thoughts.   
She missed Ron. She missed Hermione. She missed Remus and Sirius. She missed Hedwig. She missed Cedric- she missed her parents.   
What a cruel existence to be haunted by an impression of love who had left her to life; whose love she could not remember. The hugs, the kisses, the warmth, the safety that was supposed to be wrapped around a child like their favourite blanket had long since vanished from her memory.   
Like it never existed.  
Mr and Mrs Weasley tried to help, so did Remus and Sirius and Hagrid and Dumbledore and even Mcgonagall. But they couldn’t shield her from everything. They couldn’t shield her from heated glares nor expectations thrust upon her by fully grown adults. They couldn’t shield her from the ugly realities of life. They couldn’t shield her from Voldemort  
Sometimes Harriet felt like she was incapable of being loved. And that left more pain than anything Voldemort could ever do.

Harriet must have eventually managed to fall asleep, as the next time she woke, her body was coated with a hot sweat and her heart was beating so rapidly that Harriet was slightly afraid it would burst from her chest. The room was darker then before, rain violently hitting at the window above her bed as thunder shook the house. Groggily, Harriet glanced over to find that it was just passed twelve in the afternoon. She had only managed to sleep for half an hour.  
Not one for self-pity, Harriet slowly climbed off the floor, propping the pillow back of the bed, leaving no evidence behind of her odd sleeping habits. Carefully, Harriet raked her fingers through her tangled hair in an aborted attempt to get it to behave before quickly sighing in defeat. There was no use.   
Soft voices could be heard from the hallway outside her room, drifting around her almost melodically. Two she could identify as Lily and James’, but the other two, although oddly familiar, were unidentifiable. Admittedly, the last thing Harriet wanted to do was meet more people but she supposed it would be rude to lock herself inside her room all day after the Potters had been so kind. So, with a quick breath for confidence, she carefully made her way downstairs.   
Both Lily and James were curled on the couch facing the stairwell, leaving the two men with their backs turned towards her. She half expected, half hoped, they would continue their conversation, ignoring her completely. All chances of this happening were ruined when Lily made eye contact with her before giving her a gentle, kind smile that made Harriet’s stomach clench painfully. “Hello, Harriet. Did you sleep well?”  
“Erm, well, yes, I did. Thank you,” Harriet managed to stutter out with a weak smile.  
James smiled at her, a similar expression of kindness before patting the empty space beside him on the couch. Harriet quickly walked towards the Potters, perching herself on the edge of the couch somewhat awkwardly. Finally she had a view of the two strangers in front of her. The first was young, Harriet expected in his early twenties, with dark hair that was messily scattered across his head and startling green eyes that reflected her own. Wizarding robes adorned his figure, reminding Harriet of the Hungarian Horntail she had fought the year previously. He was big, not only in the sense of height, but also with muscles that gave indication that he was active often. Harriet couldn’t help but to feel intimidated by him.   
The other man also had dark hair that settled just above his shoulders. He wore a muggle leather jacket and dark jeans, making him look undeniably cool. His face was open, friendly, greatly resembling Sirius’ if her godfather didn’t have that haunted glaze within his eyes that cam from years of imprisonment. Harriet frowned before blinking again. The man that sat before her didn’t look like Sirius, but was Sirius.  
“Right!” James’ voice broke through her shock. “You haven’t met them yet! That right there,” he stated, gesturing towards the younger man, “is Harry, my son. The other man is-”  
“-Sirius,” Harriet blurted out.   
For reasons Harriet could not interpret, James look shocked at her familiarity with the man. “That’s right.”  
The young man- Harry- stood up and slowly reached his hands towards her, as if afraid of frightening a feral cat. “Blimey! I don’t remember being that small when I was a teen!”  
“Harry James Potter!” Lily exclaimed, horrified.  
“What?” Harry asked, looking genuinely confused with his furrowed brow. “She’s like a girl version of me, right? From a different universe?”  
Harriet found herself frowning at his words, not having previously thought of the significance between Harry and Harriet.  
“I didn’t think I could be as big as you in any reality,” she found herself saying before she could stop herself from voicing her impulsive thoughts. “You’re like Hagrid!”   
Harry looked at her for a second before his mouth spread into a wide, genuine grin. “Well she must be me because she’s got my wicked sense of humour.”  
Lily rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Oh, Harry! She’s not you! She’s got her own set of memories and life experiences. She’s more like a long lost sister!”  
Harriet found her eyes widening at that comparison, subconsciously slumping further into the couch.  
“Mum! Look who made her uncomfortable now!” Harry exclaimed, gesturing fervently towards Harriet.   
Lily’s face in turn heated up hotly and as she went to retort, Not-Sirius Sirius stepped in. “So, Harriet, I suppose you have been eternally blessed to know me in your world?”  
This Sirius was so different from her Sirius that Harriet wasn’t sure if it was fair to agree. Where her Sirius was wiry with a pale, slightly sick pallor with cheekbones jutting out almost painfully, this Sirius had a healthy glow and a fair amount of muscles. Her Sirius was always graced with a slightly hunched figure, as if all those years in Azkaban had manifested itself as a weight upon his shoulders. This Sirius, however, stood tall effortlessly his posture relaxed.   
However, both Sirius shared a weary glint in their eyes, along with positions that would allow for them to get in a defensive stance easily, which could only come from living in danger for too long. Above all else, however, both Sirius shared a soft expression that seemed to only be reserved for Harriet.  
Despite her best efforts, Harriet found her taut muscles relaxing slightly. “Yep, I know Sirius. Er,” she added “Other Sirius.”  
Sirius simply threw his head back and laughed.

***

In a drab and shadowy building, in another city, in another world, a pale, almost translucent, figure sat upon a carefully carved seat that looked more like a throne than a chair. A monstrous snake lazed by the figure’s feet, its eyes slitted menacingly against the shrivelled silhouette that was slumped by then entrance to the room.   
“M-My lord,” the silhouette stuttered pitifully, taking a minuscule step closer so that his rat-like features could be seen by the pale overhead lamp. “I c-c-come with news a-a-a-about P-P-Potter.”  
“Yes, Wormtail?” A pale hand with long, overgrown fingernails emerged from the dark robe to gesture Wormtail lazily forward.   
Despite the figure’s relaxed movements, a yelp erupted from Wormtail before he shakily took a step closer.   
The figure merely smiled an icy, ruthless smile before opening his white and peeling lips. “Now, now, Wormtail. There’s no need to speak so far away from me. Step closer.”  
Wormtail looked as though he was about to cry as he shakily took several more steps forward with his wobbling lips.  
The Lord merely smiled before lazily rolling his hand. “Potter?”  
“Sh-sh-she has d-d-disappeared from her aunt’s home,” He paused, as if trying to gain back his breath, shaking his head slightly to regather his thoughts.   
“And?” A sharp edge had appeared in The Lord’s voice that had not been there previously.   
“The Order d-d-don’t know w-where she is either.”  
“Interesting,” The Lord mused before turning his blood-red eyes sharply towards Wormtail. “I grow tired of your presence. Leave.”  
“Y-y-yes m-my Lord.”  
“And Wormtail? Bring Severus to me.”  
“Y-yes my L-L-Lord.”  
As Wormtail gracelessly staggered out of the room, The Lord frowned, slowly standing up to pace the study. This was troubling news. Troubling news indeed.  
The Lord had been suspecting for some time that something was wrong. For days, he had felt himself more tense than usual, as if he was a rubber band that was being stretched too far. Accompanying this feeling was a sense of loss, of losing something invaluably important. A sense he had only felt once, long long ago.   
As if understanding his unease, Nagini slithered closer towards her master, resting her head on his foot.   
For days, The Lord had felt as though Harriet Potter had gone missing. And now she had. What he had experienced should not be possible. It was impossible. And yet, he had felt this once before, with Nagini and the bond they had formed long ago. But it was impossible that he and Potter shared such bond. Wasn’t it?  
The Lord once again frowned before seating himself on his throne as a sharp knock sounded through the room. Good. Perhaps Severus had come with a better theory than his own. Because if he didn’t, then his suspicions must be true.  
Lord Voldemort had a Horcrux in Harriet Potter.


	4. Drowning on Land

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The extract from Secrets of the Dark Arts was copied from https://harrypotter.fandom.com/wiki/Horcrux.  
> Trigger warnings will be posted at the end of the chapter for those who may need it :)

Sometimes Harriet awoke to a new day and could hardly breathe. Her limbs would feel heavy yet all too light while her muscles would spasm painfully, as if she were under the cruciatus sure. A cotton feeling would cover her mouth and her eyes would feel as though they were swollen shut. Her scar would throb in time to her heartbeat; a cruel reminder of the curse that bound her long ago to a cold life. Sometimes it felt like she had died long, long ago.  
Slowly, gingerly, Harriet climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom to freshen up before climbing quietly downstairs. The living room left no evidence of the night before, where Remus had joined the Potters and Sirius for dinner. It had been a nice evening, filled with adults who reminded her of Mrs Weasley’s motherly gestures and Mr Weasley’s comical comments. And yet, despite the light atmosphere, the lack of danger, Harriet could not find it in herself to relax. It was all so domestic and serene. Too serene.  
Harriet shook herself from her musings as her hand gave a painful tremor. The living room was empty, the beginnings of morning light filtering through the large windows, giving a pink hue to the already cosy room. Against the opposite wall from where Harriet stood was a bookcase, shoved so full of books that Harriet was surprised it hadn’t already fallen apart. Scanning, the shelf, Harriet found an odd assortment of books, ranging from muggle fantasy, to wizard children’s, to books she would expect from the library at Hogwarts.   
Harriet went to turn away but stopped abruptly when she felt a hefty pull from her chest. Stepping forward, Harriet frowned. It was almost as though something was hiding at the back of the bookcase. Something meant for her.   
Scanning the room fervently for any signs of the Potters, of danger, Harriet made her way towards the bookcase, carefully removing books from the shelf. Stuffed towards the back, an unassuming, small black book sat. It reminded her uncomfortably of Riddle’s diary, without the dark allure that left an acrid taste in her mouth.  
Before she could reconsider, Harriet found herself grasping the book. There was no title on the book, nor was there an author’s name. Carefully, her fingers shaking slightly, Harriet opened the book to find a neat scrawl, clearly done by hand.   
Secrets of the Dark Arts  
Harriet frowned. Why on earth would Lily and James have such book in their possession? Against her best efforts, Harriet found her hands begin to shake more violently as a light sheen of sweat erupted from her face. Looking around again, Harriet made sure there was no sign of anyone else awake before she turned the page.   
A Horcrux was an object in which a Dark wizard or witch has hidden a fragment of his or her soul in order to become immortal. Horcruxes could only be created after committing murder, the supreme act of evil. The process for the creation of a Horcrux involved a spell and a horrific act is performed soon after the murder has been committed. Given that Horcruxes were precious to those who made them, there were usually protective measures made to prevent them from being stolen or destroyed, such as Counter-Charms and curses. The Horcrux was considered to be the darkest art and the most terrible of all dark-  
A creak sounded from above. Quickly, Harriet scrambled to place the book back on the shelf, arranging the books back into place in an attempt to leave no evidence of her morning activities. Scanning the shelf quickly, Harriet grabbed a muggle novel that looked vaguely familiar before opening to a random page, throwing herself on the couch.   
Heavy, groggy footsteps sounded from the stairway before Harry’s face greeted her with raised brows.   
“Mornin’,” he drawled, covering his mouth lazily as a yawn escaped.   
“Morning.”  
“You’re up early.”  
“So are you,” Harriet parroted before she could stop herself.   
Harry merely gave a lazy grin before replying “Touché.” He disappeared into the kitchen where soft clanks could be heard along with the boiling of water.   
Harriet sat towards the edge of the couch, unsure of what to do. Before she could get up or make a fool of herself, however, Harry came back carrying two steaming mugs.   
“Looks like you need it,” he said as an explanation before passing the cup to her. To her upmost surprise, it only had a dash of milk and, when she tried it, a strong taste of sugar. Just how she liked it.   
As if seeing her surprise, Harry gave her a crooked grin before sitting next to her. “I thought, since you’re kinda me from a different universe, that you’d take your tea the same way.”  
“Thanks.”  
They sat in surprisingly comfortable silence as Harry woke up and Harriet carefully sipped at her still steaming drink.   
“So, are Hermione and Ron your best friends too?” Harry’s voice was soft as he looked at her with excited curiosity.   
Harriet looked up before giving a small smile. “Yep. Ever since first year.”  
“Really?” Harry asked. “Even Hermione?”  
Harriet frowned slightly before looking him in his green eyes that mirrored her own. “Of course, ever since the troll incident.”  
“Troll incident?” Harry exclaimed, setting his cup down on the table and turning to face her completely.   
“Erm, I suppose that didn’t happen to you then?”  
“No,” he replied frowning. A slight pause settled over the room before Harry huffed. “You can’t just leave me with no answers! What’s the troll incident?”  
“Well,” Harriet started, biting her lip hesitantly. “Our Defence Professor let a troll into Hogwarts on Halloween. Hermione didn’t know so we went to warn her. We ran into the troll on the way.”  
Harry frowned before leaning impossibly forward. “What happened?”  
“Well,” Harriet started hesitantly, before launching into details. When she finished, she realised how carried away she had gotten as she timidly examined his face.   
Harry’s eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly open in a way that would be quite comical if Harriet wasn’t so nervous of his reaction.   
“That’s bloody brilliant!”  
“Really?”  
“Of course,” a new voice exclaimed from the stairwell, making both Harry and Harriet jump, pulling their wands towards the intruder.  
James stood there, hair even messier than usual, in his matching striped pyjamas, looking as though he had not suspected to have wands drawn on him so early in the morning. However, he soon seemed to shake off the surprise as he gave a grin that mimicked Harry’s exactly. “Not many fully grown wizards can take down a Troll, much less first years.”  
Harriet blushed violently at the attention, ducking her head. “Really, I didn’t do much. It was all Ron and Hermione.”  
Both Harry and James rolled their eyes. “I doubt that.”  
James nodded at Harry’s remark before turning to face him fully. You staying for breakfast?“  
Harry sighed dramatically before heavily standing up. “I better not. Ginny was expecting me home last night. She’ll be even more cross if I miss breakfast.”  
Smiling, James nodded before turning towards Harriet. “What do you want for breakfast, kiddo?”  
Harriet couldn’t help but blink in surprise at both the unexpected attention and the question itself. No one had ever asked what she wanted for breakfast before. “Erm, well,” she stuttered, “I’m not really picky. Anything’s good.”  
The answering frown from James made her stomach clench uncomfortably. She really didn’t want to disappoint her fa- James. However, soon his trademark grin appeared. “Then we’ll do some eggs and toast! Cant go wrong there.”  
As it turned out, eggs and toast could go wrong. Not even five minutes into scrambling the eggs, James had caught them on fire. Harry had been quick to douse it with fire before leaving quickly after, muttering something about “incompetent cooks”. Harriet took over after that, much to the chagrin of James who exclaimed that he couldn’t have her cooking as that was his job. Harriet was quick to reassure him that she liked cooking.   
Not long after the eggs had been finished, Lily came downstairs, already dressed comfortably in jeans and a cardigan. She was quick to help with toast, shooing James away to set the table with a muttered “That man!”.  
Soon, the small group was sat at the table, food steaming pleasantly in the golden morning light.  
“What did you do with these eggs, Harriet, they’re excellent!” James exclaimed as he shovelled another mouthful into his mouth.   
Harriet ducked her head at the compliment before smiling slightly. “If you add a little bit of milk and cook them on a low heat they become softer.”   
Lily smiled encouragingly at her. “Where did you learn to cook so well?”  
Harriet couldn’t help but wince slightly at the subject, slouching further into her chair as if that would make the topic disappear. “Well, my aunt taught me.”  
A loud clatter sounded throughout the room. Harriet looked up quickly, scanning the room before realising it was just the cutlery on both James and Lily’s plate being set down rather forcefully. Both faces were pale, brows furrowed together in conflicting emotions that made Harriet rather uncomfortable. “What?”  
Harriet found herself shifting restlessly in her seat mind whirring with questions of where she went wrong. She didn’t think she said anything to offend. “Well, er, my aunt sometimes needs help with the cooking so she taught me how to help.”  
The Potters shared a look at each other before Lily leaned forward, forearms resting on the table. “Do you mean Petunia, darling?”  
Harriet furrowed her brows both at the serious face and the term of endearment. No one had ever called her darling before. “Erm, yeah?”  
Again, the Potters shared a look before James gave Harriet a rather forced smile. “Well, they’re fantastic.”  
The ensuing silence felt heavier than before, almost like a thick, fleece blanket on a summers night. Suffocating. Harriet found herself finishing her breakfast rather quickly, much to the disgust of her stomach which gave a rather irritated rumble.   
As Harriet went to clean her dish, her arm gave a painful convulsion, making Harriet watch in horror as the plate crashed to the floor, breaking it into hundreds of small pieces.   
Suddenly, Harriet wasn’t at the Potters anymore, but rather a place where such mistakes were not tolerated. Her hands began to shake more violently, sending little lightning bolts up her arms and towards her violently beating heart.   
“I’m sorry!” She found herself exclaiming against her tingly numbed lips. “I-I-I didn’t mean…”  
A hand shot inter her line of vision, making her jump violently away as she exclaimed. “I-I’m s-s-sorry!” She expected a sharp pain to blossom from her cheek, her chest, her arm, but none came. Instead, she was only aware of the frantic cry of her heart and the kitchen that looked too much like that kitchen.   
Slowly, her heart seemed to quiet its screams and she became aware of a soft hand slowly patting soothing circles on her back. Harriet looked up quickly to see the concerned eyes of James staring back at her. Going to open her mouth and apologise again, Harriet found that the cottony feeling she had felt this morning had seemingly multiplied with intensity, making her cough uncomfortably.   
A tall glass cut through her vision along with the gentle smile of Lily as she held it out to her. Harriet went to grab the cup only to find that her hands were still jerking violently, making it virtually impossible to grab onto the glass. As if sensing her problem, Lily slowly helped her hold the glass, covering her impossibly soft hands over Harriet’s and guiding it towards her mouth.   
The only sound throughout the room was Harriet’s unsteady breathing as she carefully swallowed mouthfuls of water. Eventually the glass had been finished and Harriet finally found her voice.   
“I-I’m sorry. I, erm, dunno what happened.”  
“It’s alright,” came James’ soft reply as he quickly repaired the plate with an easy wave of his wand. “No harm done.”  
“I-I didn’t mean to make such a b-big deal…”  
“It’s fine, sweetheart,” Lily remarked, offering her an arm to stand up. “We don’t mind.”  
To Harriet’s continued embarrassment, she felt herself swaying as her head spun dangerously.   
“Woah, there!” James exclaimed, carefully grabbing her elbow. Harriet couldn’t help but flinch. “How ‘bout you lay down for a while?”  
“O-okay,” Harriet found herself saying, despite the fact that she knew she shouldn’t lie down, that she should do something useful, something helpful. She blinked and her room came into vision, despite the fact that she had just been down in the kitchen. Right?  
“Lay down for as long as you need to,” Lily said, draping a soft, woollen blanket over Harriet’s form.   
Harriet wanted to say thank you, to say that she was sorry, to say that it would never happen again, but her eyes were too heavy and her lips felt glued together. A calloused hand brushing her hair gently back was the last thing she felt. 

***

Lily and James sat heavily on the couch, fire crackling softly in the corner. Both were caught in a whirlwind of thoughts, making the space feel thick, like syrup or honey.   
Lily’s sigh broke the silence first.   
“What was that, James?”  
“Panic attack.”  
Lily tiredly rolled her eyes. “I know that, but why?”  
James roughly swiped his hand across his face, looking much more tired than thirty minutes previously. “I suspect that she’s been feeling on edge for ages and the breaking of the plate was the tipping point. We see it, sometimes, when we’re interviewing witnesses.”  
Lily nodded slightly before closing her eyes, resting her head on her husband’s shoulder. “She’s been living with Petunia. Out of all the people…”  
“I know,” came James’ soft reply. “But we don’t know if her Petunia is anything like our Petunia. Just this morning, I heard her and Harry comparing their first years at Hogwarts. Harriet’s seems extraordinarily different.”  
Lily’s shoulders shook as she shuddered a breath. “I-I know but you’ve seen her. She’s just so… hesitant, shy. Nothing like our Harry.”  
“I know. I’ve seen it too. I do think something has happened to make her so skittish. I’m just hoping it was a one-time event.”  
The crackling of the fire filled the room at the ensuing silence.  
“James?”  
“Lily?”  
“Where d’you think she got that scar? The one on her forehead?”  
James winced slightly. “I’m hoping I’m wrong but the precision of the scar, the placement, makes it seem almost like it’s a-”  
“-curse scar.”  
A bird’s cheerful song filled the room, lively, mocking.   
“Lily?”  
“James?”  
“I don’t think she’s bad.”  
“I don’t think so either.”

***

Upstair, the young girl thrashed against the invisible forced that held her in a vice-like grip. She didn’t cry. She didn’t shout. She had learnt long ago to stay quiet when she fought her demons following her relentlessly, even in sleep’s embrace. She had learnt long ago to depend only on herself. Even if the loneliness was crushing. Even if she wanted someone. Even if she needed someone. Desperately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW panic attacks, nightmares, anxiety, allusions to abuse, nightmares.


	5. Betrayal Best Served on a Silver Platter

The adults were whispering again.  
Ron Weasley sat beside Hermione and his siblings on the stairwell of number 12 Grimmauld Place, extendable ears hanging from the banister as they listened intently. He didn’t need to know what they were whispering about.  
Harriet Potter, his best friend, his sister, had been missing for three days now. She had vanished the evening of June 12th, leaving behind all her belongings. From previous eavesdropping sessions, Ron knew that the adults thought that she had been kidnapped. He wasn’t so sure that was the case.  
Despite Harri’s best efforts to hide it, Ron knew that her home life was no hippogryff ride. He knew that they didn’t feed her enough, that they gave her more chores than was possible to accomplish in a single day. He knew the probable reason why Harri would shy away from unexpected contact, why she was always wearing long sleeves.  
He had been saying for years that something was wrong but every adult would give a strained smile and tell him it was for the “greater good”, that Harri “had to stay with her family”. Only, the Dursleys weren’t Harri’s family. He was. So no, Ron wouldn’t be surprised if Harri had had enough. That when she saw the chance to leave her miserably relatives, she left as quickly as possible, even if it meant leaving everything behind.He just wished that she’d told him her plans; he couldn’t help but worry.  
“-new evidence as to where Harriet went,” a hushed whisper said distortedly through the ear. “The Unspeakables have reported a higher amount of activity in the Death Chamber at the same exact time of Harriet’s disappearance.”  
Ron’s eyes squinted as he looked at Hermione. He had heard of Unspeakables before, but no one knew what they did. At least, that’s what his dad claimed.  
“And why is that of consequence?” came the unmistakeable drawl of Severus Snape. Greasy Git! Ginny mouthed.  
“Because, Severus, the white sand that was found in Harriet’s room was also found around the archway.”  
“And how, exactly will this help us find my goddaughter?” Sirius’ clipped voice asked.  
“Although you didn’t pay attention in school, Black, you would think that after spending twelve years in Azkaban you’d start,” Snape sneered.  
“No one asked you, Snivillus.”  
“Gentlemen,” Dumbledore’s voice interrupted calmly.  
“I believe that this information will help us, Sirius, as although no one knows the origins nor the exact use of the archway,” Lupin started calmly. “It is widely believed to not only allow you to communicate with the dead, but also travel to different universes.”  
Ron reared his head back as he looked at Hermione, muttering a little too loudly, “Bloody hell!”.  
The ensuing silence was deafening.  
“Dammit, Ron!” Fred scolded.  
A thud could be heard from the other side of the door before it swung open roughly, revealing an irate face of Molly Weasley. “Fred! George! Ginny! Ron! Hermione! What have I said about eavesdropping?”  
Ron knew, logically, that he should at least look sheepish but the only thing he could feel was rage. “We have a right to know! That’s my best friend, our family you guys are talking about!”  
“Ronald Weasley-” his mum started.  
“NO! We deserve to know! We can help!”  
“You are just a child!”  
“A CHILD WHO HAS HELPED SAVE THE PHILOSOPHER’S STONE AND HELPED SAVE GINNY FROM HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED AND HELPED SAVE AN ESCAPED CONVICT!”  
“Ron’s right, you know,” George said quietly.  
“Yeah,” Fred and Ginny agreed.  
“We want to help,” Hermione stated softly as she put a calming hand on Ron’s shoulders.  
“I believe, Molly, that they have made a good argument.” Eyes twinkling, Dumbledore stood by the doorway to the kitchen, giving them each a soft stare. “It would be more productive to give them the right information than have them go searching for it on their own. Who knows what trouble they could get in.”  
Ron’s mum looked as if she was about to argue further but thought better of it. With a hefty sigh she exclaimed “Fine. You can listen in to what we have found but you are not do anything else. No looking for clues, no trying to find a way to get Harriet back, nothing. Understand?”  
“Understood,” the group murmured. 

***

Harriet only managed to sleep for an hour before a sickly green flash of light made her awaken with a spectacular start. She found herself choking back a scream as she fumbled for her wand, only realising after she had it clenched in her hand that she was safe. Well, as safe as Harriet could ever be.  
Forcing back a sob of equal parts frustration and exhaustion, Harriet stood on shaky legs and exited the guest room.  
Lily and James were both in the living room, Lily curled up in an armchair reading, James sat on the floor in front of the coffee table with paperwork scattered messily about. Both Potters looked less than happy with pinched faces, making Harriet want to turn around and go straight back to bed. Before she could, however, Lily looked up and gave her a soft smile, gesturing to the unoccupied couch to sit.  
“How are you feeling, dear? Would you like some tea?”  
Harriet’s smile was strained as she sat on the edge of the couch, shoulders hunched forward. “No thanks, I’m fine.”  
James looked up from his paperwork to give her a smile of his own before he slowly started gathering the paperwork into an untidy pile. As he went to set it under the coffee table, Lily’s voice pierced the air. “James Potter! If you leave that paperwork anywhere but your drawer, I will hex you into next week!”  
James answering smile was sheepish as he stood. “Sorry, love.”  
“That’s what I thought.”  
James returned quickly afterwards sitting heavily down next to Harriet. His smile was gone, eyes crinkled together tensely. Harriet felt herself sit straighter, preparing for inevitable misfortune to befall her.  
“I really hate having to ask this of you,” James started. “But both Moody and the Unspeakables need some answers from you.”  
Harriet gulped, glancing down at her hands that were still trembling, despite her best efforts to stop them. Logically, Harriet knew the real reason she was staying with James and Lily Potter. It wasn’t so they could act as her long lost parents. To care for her, to make her feel welcomed. It was to keep an eye on her, make sure she didn’t get into any trouble. It was to ensure she could return home as soon as possible. It still hurt, even after knowing this.  
“Erm, right. What do you wanna know?”  
James sighed as he settled further into the couch. “We need to know as many differences as possible about your world and ours.”  
“O-Okay.”  
“So I’ll ask you some questions and you’ll give as much detail as possible, okay?”  
Harriet took a deep, grounding breath. “Okay.”  
“So, your parents died when you were one? Why was Voldemort after them?”  
She gave an assessing look towards James, trying to find any ulterior motives for wanting to know so much about her. She found none. But that didn’t mean there weren’t any.  
“Well, my parents had defied him three times before… I suppose he wanted to make an example of them.” A small bubble of guilt pooled at the bottom of her stomach that Harriet attempted harshly push away. It was better this way, no need for James and Lily to know she was the reason for her parents death.  
As if knowing Harriet was only partially telling the truth, James raised an eyebrow staring deeply into her eyes. Harriet found herself shifting uncomfortably, averting her eyes towards her hands clasped tightly in her lap.  
The silence stretched between them like gum.  
“Okay,” James said softly. “So, you grew up with Petunia?”  
Lily gently set her book on the arm of the chair as she stared intently at them.  
“Yes.”  
“And why didn’t you live with Sirius and Remus. Sirius is your godfather, right?”  
Harriet winced slightly. “Erm, well, Remus couldn’t get guardianship over me with him being a werewolf and all…”  
“And Sirius?” Lily prompted softly.  
“Well, Sirius got framed for a murder he didn’t commit. He went to Azkaban for twelve years.”  
A slow whoosh of air escaped James’ mouth as he scrubbed his face roughly. “How was he framed?”  
Despite knowing about Wormtail for over a year now, Harriet felt old, curling fury spread through her body. “Pettigrew,” she spat out “Pretended to be murdered by him. He cut off his finger as evidence.”  
“Dammit!” James exclaimed, standing up abruptly to pace by the fireplace. “That- that rat!”  
“Well,” Harriet said hesitantly, “That is his animagus.”  
Lily chuckled tightly as James leaned heavily against the fireplace.  
“Erm right. You mentioned that your defence professor set a troll on the school in your first year? I can’t see Tilbult doing such a thing.”  
Harriet frowned, leaning forward slightly. “I don’t know a Tilbult. My professor was Quirinous Quirrell.”  
Both Potters paused their musings to look at Harriet. “He was being possessed by Voldemort.” She added as an explanation.  
Simultaneously, James coughed a surprise “What?” as Lily covered her mouth in shock. Wincing, Harriet muttered “Probably shouldn’t have mentioned that.”  
“I mean, nobody knew, of course. Dumbledore wouldn’t have hired him if that were the case.”  
“Dumbledore?” Lily questioned.  
“Well, yeah. Since he’s the headmaster and all…”  
James heavily collapsed back onto the couch, jostling Harriet slightly as the cushions moved. “Dumbledore’s been dead for over six years now.”  
“What?” Harriet yelped.  
“I suppose our two worlds have more differences than we originally thought.”  
Lily sighed before standing up. “I think it’s safe to say that all three of us have been delivered some rather shocking news. How about we take a break and eat some lunch?”

Fortunately, James didn’t get the chance to question her further. Soon after lunch, he was called into work to help find someone who had jinxed hundreds of teapots to spray boiling water at the muggles he had sold them to. Lily left an hour later after a frantic floo from Harry, promising Harriet hastily that either her or James would be home for dinner.  
Harriet sighed with relief as she flopped carelessly down on the couch, feeling as though it was the first time she had relieved her tense muscles in months. She lazily scanned the room, looking for something to preoccupy her time with. Slowly, her eyes arrived at the bookshelf at the edge of the room. Again, Harriet felt an irresistible pull and before she could properly understand what she was doing, she was holding the small black book in her hand. Flicking feverishly between pages, Harriet stopped when she stumbled upon the place she had left off on. 

To create a Horcrux, a wizard first has to deliberately commit murder. This act, said to be the most supreme act of evil, will result in the murderer metaphysically damaging their own soul. A wizard who wishes to create a Horcrux will then use that damage to their advantage by casting a spell which would sever the damaged portion of the soul and encase it in an object. If the maker is later killed, they will continue to exist in a non-corporeal form, although there are methods of regaining a physical body.

On the side of the main text, in the same curly, neat scrawl read:

Myrtle and the Basilisk  
Tom Marvelo Riddle  
I am Tremolo  
Vrolomedt  
Lomtorved 

And finally:

I am Lord Voldemort

Instinctively, Harriet threw the book on the ground, rubbing her hands furiously on her shirt as if to rid herself of the very idea of him. A sob racked her body as it fought its way out of her mouth like a parasite, making Harriet clench her hands tightly.  
Why why why would her par- NO, James and Lily have a diary from Tom Riddle? Why would they hide it if they weren’t guilty? Nausea rolled her stomach as she stared at the offending book. She couldn’t believe that she had believed them, that she had been tempted to tell them everything.  
Quickly, so as not to lose courage, she grabbed the book before rushing to her room. She had to leave, she had to leave now. Every second she stayed was another second she- her friends- were in danger. Roughly, she forced the closet door open, finding a small bad filled with junk towards the back corner. Quickly dumping out the items, she shoved in the clothing Lily had lent her after promising to go shopping with her soon.  
Her heart beat heavily in her ears, drowning her. She stumbled as she launched herself towards her door, thrusting it open before practically jumping down the stairs. She was so close to reaching the front door when she heard the last thing on earth she wanted to hear. The floo.  
James (or James intruder) gracefully exited the fireplace, calmly brushing a fleck of soot off his robes before glancing at her casually. He looked away for a second before sharply looking back as he processed the dishevelled sight of her. He went to take a step forwards but stopped abruptly as Harriet took an even larger step back, pointing her wand directly at his chest.  
There was no way she was going to make it to the door, not without Not-James stunning her. She’d have to fight.  
A sense of deadly calm roared through her body, allowing Harriet to focus sharply on the situation at hand. James had slowly raised his hands above his head in (mock?) surrender, his face pinched with confusion.  
“Harriet,” he said lowly, carefully. “What are you doing?”  
Harriet, still gasping for breath, hardened her stare, filling it with as much hatred as she could muster. “I-I know. There’s no need to act all innocent.”  
Carefully, James stepped forward, making Harriet jab her wand towards him in warning. “I don’t know what you think you know, kiddo, but I’m sure it’s not right.”  
Harriet shook her head fiercely taking a step back towards the door. “I’m not stupid! I know you’re working for Voldemort! I found his diary! You’re helping him!”  
“Harriet-”  
“No! I should’ve known better than to believe I’d traveled alternate universes!” At this, she scoffed deprecatingly towards herself. “I-I don’t know what Voldemort’s plan is but he won’t win! He won’t!”  
“Harriet!”  
“Now,” she said, her voice hardening from her slight hysterics to a battle hardened warrior. “Unless you want to get hurt, you’re going to let me go. You’re going to let me out this door and far far away. You won’t follow me. You won’t have someone else follow me. You’ll let me leave and pretend that we never met in the first place.”  
“Harriet!” This time, Not-James’ voice was harder, more commanding than she’d ever heard it be before. “Listen to me!”  
“Fuck you,” she exclaimed before wordlessly casting a stunner. James dodged quickly, too quickly, grabbing his wand. Before she could fire another spell however, a calm, forceful voice yelled “Accio Harriet’s wand!” from behind her, leaving her defenceless.  
Harriet turned around sharply, raising her fists as her last defence, to be greeted by not only Lily, but also Harry.  
“What,” Harry asked flatly, “is going on here?”


	6. Walking the Wire and Other Foolish Endeavours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have changed how long Dumbledore has been dead from 13 years to 6. Sorry for any confusion! I have gone back and changed it.  
> TW at end of chapter

Shit! Harriet thought to herself as the reality fo the situation hit her like a train. Both Lily and Harry were blocking the doorway, James the floo, making it impossible for her to flee.  
“Look,” Harriet started, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. “I don’t want any trouble. I dunno why you’re doing this and frankly I don’t care. Just give me back my wand and let me leave.” Her voice was much more forceful than her heart, which had begun to hammer so loudly in her chest that Harriet was half convinced everyone could hear it.  
“Kiddo-” James started to say from behind her before Harriet whirled around violently to face him.  
“Don’t call me that!”  
James raised his hands in surrender again before taking a step closer to her. Harriet wished he wouldn’t. “I honestly don’t know what has happened, but I can guarantee that it’s not what you think. Why don’t we all sit down so we explain things. Calmly.”  
Harriet was half tempted to give another Fuck you but thought better of it when she realised she would be going against three adult wizards without a wand. That didn’t mean she would cooperate fully with them. She just had to pretend  
“Okay.”  
James’ shoulders slumped slightly as he, Lily, and Harry went to sit down on the couch, leaving the armchair for her. Harriet huffed a short, tense breath before carefully sitting on the edge of the seat.  
“Why do you think we’re working for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, dear?” Lily’s voice was as soft and comforting as ever but it didn’t have the same effects on Harriet. Instead, she felt the strange urge to throw a nasty hex at her. Or a chair, seeing as her wand was still clenched tightly in Harry’s hand.  
“You know exactly why.”  
Harry huffed at that, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. “How are we meant to have a peaceful conversation with you when you won’t even cooperate?”  
“Harry-” James started warningly, but it was too late. Harriet felt that familiar fury curled inside her gut like a sleeping dragon awaken, its fire spreading quickly throughout her entire body.  
“Cooperate? Why on earth would I do such a thing when it’s clear that you’ve tricked me!” As each Potter went to open their mouth with a retort, Harriet pushed on. “NO! You can’t even deny it when you’ve been hiding a diary from Voldemort! Why would you hide such a thing if you weren’t working for him?” By this point, Harriet had stood up and was pointing at each one of them as though her fingers were daggers. “So, really, I don’t see any reason why I should ‘cooperate’ with you!”  
James frowned before carefully looking at Harriet. “Harriet,” he said slowly, “we don’t know what book you’re talking about. We’ve never heard of such thing.”  
Harriet scoffed, opening her mouth to give another round of insults, but stopped abruptly when she saw Harry’s pale, sickly face. “Can you show me this diary, please?” He said slowly, carefully.  
“No! Do you think I’m stupid?”  
“Please.”  
Eyes scanning Harry furiously, Harriet frowned. Really, she didn’t need the book. It was more the principal of the matter. On the other hand, if giving the book gave Harriet enough time to run, she supposed she could agree. “Only if you give me my wand back.”  
Harry’s eyes narrowed with cold assessment. “Only if you promise not run.”  
“And why would I promise such a thing? For all I know, you’re Deatheaters.”  
“I’ll give it to you after I’ve explained.”  
“So there is something to explain.”  
Harry exasperatedly pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tightly as if to fight off an approaching headache. “Just, tell me, is it small and black? Handwritten?”  
“Yes.”  
Harry nodded once. “Mum and Dad don’t know about the book at all. I hid it there myself.”  
“Harry!” Both Lily and James scolded.  
“But with good reason!” Harry said quickly. “It was right before Dumbledore went to fight He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for the final time. He asked me to keep it safe. Said that there was dangerous information in it that couldn’t get into the wrong hands.”  
Harriet snorted a sarcastic “I’ll say” as James turned to look Harry directly in the eyes. “What information?”  
Harry seemed to hesitate for a second, shifting in his chair slightly before clearing his throat. “Well, you know how Voldemort had that Horcrux? The Diary?”  
“Yes,” both Lily and James chorused slowly.  
“It was notes by him on how he created it.”  
“So let me get this straight,” Harriet interrupted. “Dumbledore gave it to you right before he died to keep safe and you put it at the back of a bookcase?”  
Harry opened his mouth then closed it again with a frown. “Hidden in plain sight?”  
James snorted.  
“How am I supposed to believe you? You guys could have created this whole thing to get information from me!”  
“What information?” Harry asked.  
Harriet’s eyes widened as she pointed at Harry. “See?”  
James huffed. “How else could you explain how we look so much like your parents?”  
“Polyjuice.”  
“And where would we have gotten the hair? The fingernails?”  
Harriet opened her mouth and, much like Harry, closed it again. “Well, maybe you’re using a really complicated glamour?”  
“I think you know logically that there’s no glamour that can be used to make a person resemble someone else so greatly.” Lily objected quietly.  
Harriet huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose harshly as if it would help her find more reasons not to trust them. When she couldn’t, her shoulders hunched downwards. Was it really possible that they were telling the truth?  
The reality of the situation crashed upon Harriet’s shoulders like a house. Oh merlin! She had just attacked her fa- James! And accused them of working for Voldemort of all people! “I-I’m sorry!”  
Each Potter’s face softened exponentially. “Its okay,” Lily reassured, making Harriet feel even worse for how she acted.  
Harry snorted, covering his mouth to disguise it as a cough. “It’s really okay, Har. Besides, it was rather funny seeing Dad have to dodge like that. He looked like a niffler trying to steal from the goblins!”  
Lily covered her mouth as a giggle bubbled out, James turning to glare at the two before slowly allowing himself to smile. Harriet found it in herself to give a hesitant chuckle, even if it was just to humour them.  
The moment was sobered by James’ next question. “Why was your immediate reaction to believe we were Deatheaters?”  
Harriet’s grin melted from her face as she turned her face downwards to look at the rug. “It’s nothing against you guys and all. I suppose the resurrection of Voldemort has got me a bit on edge is all.”  
“I’m sorry, what?” Harry exclaimed, jumping off the couch so quickly that Harriet couldn’t help but flinch. She really should start assuming that nothing that happened in her world happened in theirs.  
“I-is Voldemort not in power here?”  
“Honey,” Lily started, “Voldemort was defeated by Albus Dumbledore over six years ago.”  
“It’s how he died,” James added quietly, a flash of sorrow glinting from his eyes before he could mask it.  
“Oh,” was the only thing Harriet managed to choke out, suddenly feeling rather faint. The world tilted slightly as she slumped against the back if her chair. “S-so he never killed the two of you?And then he was defeated Dumbledore?”  
Logically, she knew that she shouldn’t feel sorrow cracking through her heart. Logically, she knew it was no one’s fault but her own that her parents died. Logically, Harriet even knew that no one could have saved her from meeting Voldemort time and time again with little to no help from the adults around her. It was just the way it was.  
That didn’t seem to make it hurt less.  
“Did you ever meet Voldemort?” Harriet asked Harry carefully. Maybe he had had to face some of the things she had. Maybe she wasn’t alone in all that she faced. Maybe-  
“No,” Harry said quietly. “Well, I saw him during the final battle, helped keep him distracted before Dumbledore could reach him.”  
“And even then you shouldn’t have had to face him,” James frowned disapprovingly.  
“I was an adult!”  
“Barely,” Lily argued.  
“Oh,” was all Harriet managed to say.  
“Why are you here, Harry?” James asked suddenly as a newfound stillness settled over the occupants of the house.  
Harry winced slightly. “It appears I inherited your cooking skills. I left pasta on the stove without enough water. Nearly burnt down the whole apartment.”  
Lily sighed in exasperation, looking fondly down at her son. “Harry was in a right state when I arrived to help him put out the fire. We decided after assessing the damage that it would be better for Harry to come stay here while they repair the place.”  
“Ginny decided to go visit her parents for a while. That’s why she’s not with me.”  
“Ginny?” Harriet asked with a small frown. This was the second time Harry had mentioned her.  
“Yeah, my girlfriend.”  
Harriet’s eyes bugged out of her head slightly as she stared at Harry in a newfound light. She couldn’t imagine dating Ginny; she was like a sister to her.  
Harry merely chuckled at her expression, seemingly reading her thoughts.  
Silence descended upon the room, pink and golden hues from the last rays of sunlight tinting the room an odd glow. It was peaceful here, Harriet realised with a start, as she looked around the room. Besides the obvious fact that there was no more Voldemort, no more Deatheaters to ruin people’s lives, there was also a tranquility that she had never had at Private Drive. On occasion she had felt it at the Burrow and Hogwarts, but mostly she had been too busy to be able to sit quietly for more than a minute at a time. A bird sung in the distance; a melancholic melody that made Harriet realise that she had never heard her mum sing. She didn’t even know if her mum ever did sing.  
Despite being surrounded by faces of her parents, of a brother she could have had, Harriet couldn’t forget that they weren’t hers. And that made her feel more alone than ever.

The rest of the week passed quickly and despite Harriet’s best efforts not to, she had slowly started acclimating to the Potters’ home. Harriet was always the first to wake up in the mornings, giving her time to study Riddle’s book without the scrutiny of others. When she heard the light footsteps of Lily or James waking up, she would quickly go downstairs and help them cook breakfast.  
Harry and James both appeared to be keeping quite busy at work but Harriet could never hear what about, their voices hushed and private. Harriet couldn’t tell whether Lily simply wanted to keep her company or was worried about her running off, as despite the two jobs Lily clearly had, she spent each day with Harriet. It wan’t bad, per se, but Harriet wasn’t used to having an adult’s attention all to herself for hours on end. For the most part, Lily left her to do what she pleased, allowing Harriet to study as much as she could about this new world she found herself in.  
Mcgonagall had taken over as Headmistress after Dumbledore died. Severus Snape was never a potions professor and, instead, some bloke named Slughorn took his position. The Minister was not Fudge, had never been Fudge. Instead, a kind looking man named Kingsley Shacklebolt took that position. When Harriet had brought it up at the dinner table one evening, James had smiled, exclaiming he was the good Minister but an even better person.  
On Wednesday, Lily had finally drug her out shopping, despite Harriet’s protests that Harry’s old clothes worked perfectly fine. It had taken the whole day due to Harriet’s protests at the purchasing of each new item of clothing and Lily’s insistence that she needed more. Remus had told her stories about Lily’s great persistence in third year, but to see it in person was an entirely different experience. By the time they had gotten home, Harriet had more clothes than she ever had before.  
Lily refused to hear her gratitude after the fifth time she tried to express it.  
Harriet still hadn’t heard anything about getting her back to her own world, and every time she went to bring it up, all the air seemed to leave her lungs. (She wasn’t really sure what that was about.)  
The only hitch in her days had been the amount of food that both Lily, James, and Harry had pushed upon her. After a month at the Dursleys, Harriet wasn’t used to having one proper meal a day, much less three. Her eating habits had never been a problem before, as Mrs Weasley had always been preoccupied with keeping Fred and George from doing something foolish while also ensuring that Percy ate in between his paperwork, leaving Harriet to eat in peace. Here, however, Harriet could tell that the Potters noticed her odd eating habits, making it harder to slip by unnoticed. They hadn’t brought anything up, but the frowns on their faces told Harriet that it was only a matter of time.  
“Can you pass the Ketchup?” Harry asked Friday evening as they all sat down, after James’ insistence, for a burger dinner.  
Harriet was astounded that he was still eating, having already devoured the entire burger. Harriet herself still had well over half her burger and chips and could already feel her stomach gurgle unhappily at the amount she had eaten. Still, Harriet had rather feel a bit poorly than have Harry’s stare pierce her soul.  
“What did you guys get up to today?” Lily asked as she passed Harry the condiment.  
“Oh, you know, the usual,” Harry replied before shoving a handful of chips in his mouth.  
James sighed. “Slow down, Harry. Nobody’s going to take that from you.”  
Harriet swallowed uncomfortably at that comment, her food turning to ash in her mouth. Her stomach gave another painful lurch as her hands trembled slightly. She wasn’t sure if it was from anxiety or the aftermath of the cruciartus curse she had been held under almost three months ago.  
“Anyways,” James continued. “Had a lot of paperwork today. Nothing special.”  
The quiet breaths and swallows of food were the only break in silence.  
Suddenly, Harry perked up. “Hey, Harriet?”  
“Yes?”  
“Y’know how you said that your defence professor was possessed by You-Know-Who?”  
Harriet did not like this line of questioning. Not one bit. “Yes?”  
“Well,” he continued, oblivious to her discomfort. “I was wondering if you ever saw him?”  
By now, both James and Lily had stopped their quiet chatter, looking intently between the two.  
“Erm, well, yes?”  
“Really? What did he look like?”  
“Well, what did yours look like?”  
“Eh,” he shrugged. “He looked sorta waxy, distorted. His eyes were red which was bloody creepy.”  
“Oh,” Harriet remarked processing the statement. “Mine didn’t look like yours. He kinda looked like a snake. Didn’t really have a nose.”  
“Really?” Harry asked excitedly, leaning forward.  
“Erm, yeah. I suppose it was worse in fourth year than in first.” She replied distractedly, caught in the tsunami of memories that had threatened to overtake her reality.  
Quietly, almost as serious as he had been when she was firing stunners at him, James asked “How many times have you seen him, Harriet.”  
Blinking slowly, Harriet realised her mistake, looking down sheepishly as she tried to gather her thoughts enough to give an answer that would satisfy them. “Well, I suppose I saw him three- no, technically four times?”  
Lily gasped quietly. “How-”  
“You know, I’m rather tired,” Harriet rushed out. “I think I’m going to head to bed. Er, thanks for the food.” And with that, Harriet leapt out of her chair and dashed towards the reprieve of her room. 

***

Admittedly, Harry felt horrible about tricking Harriet into answering more questions. But it had been a week now, and she hadn’t volunteered any explanations, any thoughts on why she may be here. Harry knew that his dad had argued with Moody days ago about letting her get settled in before asking her more questions. Moody had simply argued that they didn’t have time, especially with the increase in wizarding terrorist attacks across the country. They had kept all of them out of the papers so far, but it was only a matter of time before the public found out.  
Harry also knew that, despite his dad’s best efforts to keep his feelings towards Harriet strictly working-professional, he had developed a fondness for her. Almost like a daughter.  
Really, Harry wasn’t surprised. He had caught his mum on more than one occasion acting overly motherly towards her and he was already seeing her as a little sister.  
Harry had only wanted to help his dad who was already overwhelmed with finding the mass attackers. He wanted to help his dad who already had too much guilt.  
He just wish it hadn’t upset Harriet so much.

***

Carefully, the small, hunched figure carried the golden ring towards the pile of rags that lay on the dusty, moth-eaten chair. The room around them was dark, the only source of light the full moon that filtered through the small crack in the roof, casting eery, living shadows on the dilapidated walls.  
“M-master,” the small man said, his rat-like features even more prevalent in the low lighting. “I-I have brought you the stone.”  
From under the chair- no, within the rags on the chair, a dry voice that sounded more like nails on a chalkboard, spoke. “Bring it to me.”  
“Y-yes M-Master,” the man complied, practically tripping over his oversized feet in haste to comply. As soon as he rested the ring within the folds of the cloth, however, he leapt back, as if afraid of being burnt.  
“Ssseverus,” the voice hissed, sounding stronger, surer. “The potion. Bring it to meeeee.”  
Slowly, the shadows in the far corner of the small room unfurled, catlike, moving slowly upwards until it took the shape of a man. His pale face was almost translucent in the light; long shadows making his already hooked nose more pronounced. Unlike the first man, Severus walked calmly, with measure, over to the rags. With flourish, he retrieved a small bottle from a pocket by his chest, uncorking it with a small pop before unceremoniously pouring it on the chair.  
A sharp hissing noice burst forth, gaining intensity until the whole room seemed to be filled with it. Black steam furled upwards like coiled snakes; ready to strike at any moment. Suddenly, the rags shifted, lurching upwards with such force that the smaller man squeaked. Severus turned to glare sharply at him before spinning back.  
The rags had started to expand now, a frothing, spitting potion whirling violently in place before falling away to reveal a violently red ball in the centre. If Severus cared to look, he would have been able to recognise the shape to actually be like a baby’s; grossly elongated limbs and skin raw, blistered, and oozing with welts.  
Severus did not care to look.  
Just like the rags, the figure began to bubble, slowly growing, changing, until his skin began to knit itself back together, going from the violent fuchsia to a pale olive tone. The baby-like body slowly grew until it reflected a young man’s.  
Slowly, he stood, eyes opening to reveal ruby red eyes and a face so young and handsome Severus had a hard time believing that he had just come from that. Quickly, he kneeled, offering dark robes and a skeletal white wand.  
The man quickly took it before giving Severus a cold, cruel grin, trademark of only one person.  
Tom Marvelo Riddle was back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am soooo excited for the next chapter! The story's really going to start picking up its pace!   
> Have a lovely day and thanks for reading!  
> TW eating problems, allusions to abuse, slight panic attack.


	7. Night Terrors and Terrors of the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your lovely comments! It makes writing this story all the more fun.   
> Have fun reading!  
> TW at end of chapter

Harriet didn’t awaken suddenly, as she so often did with nightmares. Instead, it was a gradual ordeal, surges of consciousness rushing over her mind like waves on a beach. She was first aware of a sharp throbbing in her scar which felt like thousands of hot bugs scuttling across her skin. Next, she was aware of her body, still heavy with sleep, curled up tightly on the floor as if to shield her from Voldemort’s curses. No, not Voldemort, but Lucius Malfoy, finally here to fulfil his promise to kill her. But as her eyes opened blearily to be greeted by a white wall, she realised that Malfoy wasn’t there at all.   
That’s right, she was at the Dursley’s for summer.   
Harriet sighed quietly to herself, gingerly sitting up. She wasn’t looking forwards to a parching day filled with heavy manual labour and little to no food. But, alas, he aunt would not have her slacking off.   
Yet, it wasn’t her small, barred room or the cupboard under the stairs that greeted her when she stumbled to her feet. Rather, it was a spacious room, filled with soft with warm colours. A bed, that looked as soft as a cloud. The Potters. She was safe.  
Well, as safe as she ever really could be.   
Harriet huffed as she glanced over at the small digital clock on the bedside table, realising that, once again, she had only gotten three hours worth of rest. Carefully, Harriet considered the bed, the floor, before shuddering violently. No, the dream was still too fresh in her mind. She wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight.   
As she climbed onto the bed, Harriet thought about her dream, so odd with its mixture of the old Riddle House and Voldemort’s resurrection at the graveyard. But there had been differences to both that Harriet couldn’t make sense of, no matter how hard she tried. Firstly, Snape was present, but he didn’t look anything like usual. His face, much more sunken, had a quiet resign that she had never seen before. His greasy black hair was adorned with streaks of grey, making him appear thirty years older. Additionally, it had been Riddle’s round face with high cheekbones and a biting grin to stare back at her when he had risen from those decomposing rags. He had looked around the room, unadulterated pleasure flitting though his face before he had stared right through her. No, not through her, but at her. He seemingly pinned her with his eyes, ensuring she couldn’t escape. Only Harriet’s harsh, ragged breathing had separated the two enemies.   
The house around them convulsed as if its very walls were possessed, making Riddle stand straighter, prouder. A crack sounded through the room before part of the wall detached, curling around itself until it resembled a gnarled arm, slowly reaching for her. Harriet remembered trying to move, but her body had betrayed her and all she could do was watch as the wall inched forward, wrapping itself around her neck. Choking her.  
Killing her.  
Harriet shuddered violently as her scar gave another painful twinge. Not real not real not real not real- But it had felt so real. And Sirius and Remus had explained to her over the month she was at the Dursleys that some of her dreams, the more realistic ones about Voldemort, were real -not real not real not real not real- That she was looking at what he was doing right now- not real not real not real not real not real.  
Harriet felt her breath stutter, gasp, choke as she realised the implications of her dream. She could be a dead man walking.  
The room tilted dangerously as the walls crept forward just like in the vision. He had found her. He had found her and now he was going to kill her and there was nothing she could do and it was sheer dumb luck that she escaped him last time and she had had the help of her parents and Cedric but now she was all alone and there was nothing she could do and she was going to die. But Harriet didn’t want to die, there was still so much she needed to do, wanted to do. She hadn’t said goodbye to Ron and Hermione or told Mr and Mrs Diggory how sorry she actually was or thanked Mrs Weasley for making her feel wanted for once in her life and-  
As suddenly as the walls that had crept in, encircling her in a living tomb, it had stopped. It had stopped because it had never started. Harriet was left slumped in on herself as a desperate form of comfort, heaving in breaths and trying desperately, fiercely, to hold in her racking sobs. She was okay she was okay she was okay. Not because she felt like she was okay. But because she needed to be okay.  
Harriet gulped wiping away the few tears that had escaped. She couldn’t stay in this room, she couldn’t. She couldn’t because at any moment the walls might fall in on her again and this time she wouldn’t escape.  
The living room was dark, the only light from a lamp in the kitchen and the full moon, just like in her dream. Harriet shook herself roughly before silently walking forwards. A glass of water would do her good. She’d just make sure to wash it thoroughly so that the Potters would never know.   
Quietly, Harriet stepped past the table, opening the cabinets hesitantly before filling the cup up. However, when she went to turn around, two figures at the corner of the table caught her eye. Harriet involuntarily yelped, dumping half the water on her face as she grappled for her wand to brandish it harshly in their faces.  
“Woah there!” Harry exclaimed holding his hands up in mock surrender as he grinned gently. “Just me and dad.”  
“S-s-sorry.”  
“It’s no problem. Couldn’t sleep?” James asked, gesturing for her to sit in the empty chair across from them.   
“Erm, well, just thirsty, I suppose.”  
Harry frowned as if he wanted to say something.   
“Harry and I couldn’t sleep,” James stated casually, bringing what looked like a mug a of tea to his mouth. “Mind too busy.”  
“That makes sense,” Harriet remarked, quietly taking a sip of water.   
They sat in a surprisingly comfortable silence, occasionally interrupted by a light comment or funny question from Harry and James. Slowly, Harriet felt the last of her tremors subside, her shoulders slumping slightly from a release of tension. The night no longer seemed as eerie, dangerous.   
“D’you think fish feel wet all the time?” Harry asked suddenly as he examined his glass of water.  
James rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he chuckled. There was a slight pause before his eyes widened comically.   
“Oh Merlin! Do they?”  
Harriet giggled, opening her mouth to reply when a sharp, piercing, all consuming pain erupted from her scar. She couldn’t help but whimper as she clamped both hands over her forehead in a desperate attempt to ease the pain.   
“Harriet?” A worried voice prodded from her left ear. But she was already too far gone.  
She stood over a long table, filled with featureless, masked faces. All heads were bowed in submission as Nagini slithered slowly, teasingly, across the table, her tongue flicking towards each figure who displeased her. Satisfaction and a deep sense of pleasure bloomed within Harriet as she saw them cower.  
“My faithful followers,” she greeted, her voice low and breathy, as if hissing the words. “I believe it is time we expand our power.”  
The table was deathly silent. No person shifted, flinched, breathed.  
“Lucius!” She asserted, lips curled into an ugly sneer as he flinched violently and bowed his head impossibly further. “I believe you have given me no new information as to where Potter has gone?”  
“N-no my lord,” he answered simply.   
“Hmmm,” she hummed. “Disappointing.”  
Before he could open his mouth and displease her further, she quietly uttered “Crucio!”. Cold waves of euphoria ruched over her as she saw him writhe on the floo; as she felt his torture. She closed her eyes, swaying in time to his screams as they further crescendoed before growing silent. It was never as nice when they were silent.   
Slowly, mockingly, she raised her wand to utter the counter-curse. Immediately, Lucius slumped forward, resting his sweaty, pale head on the contrastingly chilly table.   
Harriet paid him no heed.  
“Severus has reported evidence that our little Harriet,” at this her lip curled further, transitioning her sneer into quiet rage, “has traveled dimensions. And, luckily for you all, I have a… contact who is willing to help us.”  
Bella looked up sharply, a distant, deranged smile stretching across her lips. “Who, my Lord.”  
“Now now, Bella, do not speak out of turn,” Harriet found herself cautioning. “Details are for another time. Right now, I believe, we have guests that are in need of special attention.”  
At this, a young muggle couple was shoved forward by an invisible force, allowing her followers to get a good look at them. They already looked battered, with deep purple bruises marring their skin; deeps cuts ran across the entirety of the young man’s face as the woman, now sobbing, held a stump that Harriet knew used to be her hand.  
Dolohov scoffed, already knowing that their pain was nothing compared to what it would be in a few short hours. Harriet found herself smiling as she said “Bella, you may start.”   
All she felt was pain.  
Pain.  
Pain.  
Cold as death’s iron grip, her aunts hateful stare, her cupboard on a winter’s night.  
As hot as her rage, as the oven as she baked fresh pastries, as the stove as her uncle held her hand to it.  
“-arriet! Harriet! Harriet!” A distant voice pilfered towards the front of her brain as Harriet felt her limbs twitch sporadically.   
Another voice, this one distinctively calmer said “Harriet, dear. I know you are in pain right now, but I need to make sure you are alright. Can you squeeze my finger for me?”  
Her… finger? But Harriet didn’t have a finger… or a hand… or a body. How was she supposed to do such a thing? Harriet opened her mouth to tell the silly woman but frowned when she remembered she couldn’t. She had no mouth.  
However, if she had no mouth, no hands, no body, why was she in so much pain? It felt as though her whole being was being shredded into teeny tiny pieces of… something small.  
Cheese, maybe?  
Harriet liked cheese. Maybe if she squeezed the insistent lady’s hand they would give her cheese.   
“Harriet!” A firmer tone breached her broken thoughts. “We need you to listen and squeeze Lily’s finger.”  
Merlin! How many of them were there? All Harriet really wanted to do was sleep but she didn’t think she could with their jarring voices in her ear.  
Maybe she should squeeze Lily’s finger.  
“That’s good, darling! Really good!” The voice said again. “I need you to try to tell me where you’re hurt.”  
Harriet didn’t want to talk. She wanted to sleep.  
“Harriet,” the other, more demanding voice said. “Listen to Lily, kiddo.”  
Kiddo? What was a kiddo? Maybe a creature? Hagrid would know.  
“Where ‘agrid?” She found herself slurring.  
“Hagrid? Harriet, are you asking for Hagrid?”  
“Mmmm,” she hummed, happy they were friends with him too.   
“We don’t know a Hagrid.”  
Oh. Traitors.  
“Kiddo-”  
“Wha’ kiddo?”  
“What’s kiddo?” A voice asked that Harriet could now identify as Harry’s. “What do you mean? You’re kiddo.”  
“Mmm,” she hummed again, happy this time.  
“Harriet,” James prodded. “We need you to tell us what’s wrong. Are you hurt?”  
Hurt? She was always hurt. She just told people when it was a big hurt.  
“Don’ wanna go Pomfrey.”  
“You won’t have to,” Harry soothers. “Mum’s a real good healer. Between the three of us you’ll be right as rain in no time.”  
“Don’ ‘ike rain.”  
“That’s okay,” Lily quickly reassured as a gentle hand started threading through her hair softly. “There’s no rain.”  
“Mmmm.”  
All was quiet and Harriet found her pain receding slightly as her body started drifting to sleep, only to be ruined by their stupid voices.  
“Harriet,” James prodded sternly. “You can’t fall asleep yet. We need you to tell us where you’re hurt.”  
Huffing with both annoyance and exhaustion, Harriet slowly opened her bleary eyes to be greeted with three fuzzy faces.   
She really wished one of the fuzzy faces was a cat. She liked cats.  
But not dogs. Ripper hurt.  
She was already hurt enough right now.  
“My ‘ead.” She started. “’n muscles. Feel squishy. ’n bad way.”  
“That’s a really good job, Har!” Harry smiled down gently at her.  
“Really?”  
“Of course,” James agreed, carefully placing something cold and wet on her forehead.  
Scrunching her eyes with distaste, Harriet tried to turn her head to escape it. “Nnn’,” she hummed with distaste. “‘old.”  
“Shhh,” Lily soothed. “You’re bleeding from your scar. James just needs to clean it up so we can see if you’re hurt too badly.”  
Twitching her fingers to make sure they were there, that they still worked, Harriet shakily brought her hand towards the offending cloth on her forehead. Yet before she could reach it, a gentle hand grasped her wrist and brought it down again. “Don’t do that Harriet.  
“‘raitor,” Harriet murmured towards Harry. “‘Upposed be my ‘ide.”  
“And why’s that?”  
“Brother help ‘ister.”  
There was a pause and Harriet worried through her clouded brain that she had said something wrong. Though, before she could apologise, Harry gave a small chuckle. “You’re right. I should be on your side.”  
Out of her peripheral, Harriet saw Lily gently extract her wand before waving it carefully over her body, much like Madam Pomfrey would do when trying to find what was wrong with her. Harriet wasn’t too sure, her vision was still too fuzzy, but she thought she saw deep creases form on Lily’s forehead as she frowned.   
“Wha’ madder?”  
“What’s the matter? Is that what you said?” James asked quietly so as not to disrupt Lily’s work.  
“Mmm.”  
“She’s just concentrating, kiddo.”  
“Mmm.” Her eyes felt heavy, as if they were attached to weights. Or dragons. She was pretty sure dragons were heavy. “‘m ‘ired.”  
“I know, Har. You can sleep in just a short bit,” Harry said.  
Pausing her enchantments, Lily quietly asked “James. Can you please go and get me an anti-cruciartus potion along with pepper up and essence of dittany?”  
“Anti-cruciartus?” Both James and Harry questioned.   
“I’ll explain later.”  
There was a pause and Harriet wondered when it had gotten so dark.  
“Darling, I need you to open your eyes for me, please.”  
Her eyes weren’t closed, were they?  
“They are closed, Har. Just try for us, please.”  
Was Harry a mindreader?   
“No, you’re just talking out loud, darling. Now can you please open your eyes?”  
Unsteadily, Harriet brought her hands to her eyes, making sure they were closed, before opening them.  
James had apparently returned, as he held carefully in his hands three potions. They didn’t look very tasty but potions never were.  
She would like a potion that tasted of cheese.  
But not right now, she thought, as her stomach gave a dangerous lurch.  
“Don’ feel good.”  
“We know, kiddo. These potions will help,” James reassured but he didn’t understand.  
“Nnn,” protesting weakly, she turned her head to the side. “Sick.”  
Harry’s eyes widened as he gently took her shoulders and, with the assistance of Lily, sat her up carefully. The world tilted dramatically as her stomach gave another warning gurgle.  
“Here,” Harry’s voice said from behind her as a bowl was thrust into her vision.  
Just in time, too, as her stomach gave one final summersault. Her entire body was cramping, now, with the effort it took to expel what little food she had in her system. It seemed to last years, decades, centuries before she felt like she wouldn’t fall apart if she slumped backwards a little.  
Now she really, really, really, wanted sleep.  
“Here, take this, darling. It’ll make you feel a bit better.” A potion, smelling strongly of freshly mowed grass and.. liquorice… was thrust under her nose.  
“Nnno.”  
“It’ll help with the nausea, kiddo.”  
“M’kay.”  
The potion was surprisingly thin, making it somewhat easy to ingest. Unlike the next two.  
However, it must have done their jobs, as soon, Harriet was feeling better. She was still bone-weary and in an exponential amount of pain but, now, she wasn’t so… floaty.   
She appeared to be on the floor, facing two incredibly concerned faces of Lily and James. Her legs were cold, unlike her back, which was surprisingly comfortably pressed against something warm, soothing. Yet, as her mind worked furiously to understand her surroundings better, she realised she was propped against someone, not something.  
Despite her clearer head, her words still came out slurred as she exclaimed “‘m sorry!” Towards Harry. She tried to move away, to stand up, but Harry carefully pulled her backwards.  
“No no no. Don’t move yet, Har. ”  
“‘m sorry,” she tried again.  
“It’s okay,” Lily shushed. “It’s not your fault you’re sick.”  
“Didn’ mean t’be sick.”  
“Its okay,” Lily repeated more firmly. “Are you in much pain?”  
“No,” Harriet replied, her voice wavering slightly.  
“Harriet,” James chastised. “We want to make you feel better but we can’t if you don’t tell us the truth.”  
“’m ‘kay, really.”  
“Har, please tell us the truth.”  
“’s nothin’! Jus’ bit achy.”  
Cursing slightly under her breath, Lily waved her wand. This time, as she spoke, her voice was unsteady and strained. “James. We need more anti-cruciartus potion.”  
“Shit,” He muttered before standing hurriedly to retrieve it.  
Harriet really didn’t want to take any more of that potion. It fizzed aggressively in her mouth, sickly sweet. Harriet tried to tell Lily that but was quickly interrupted with the lip of the bottle being pushed into her mouth. Instinctively, Harriet swallowed, choking slightly as the bubbles attacked her throat.   
She was feeling floaty again, as if she were a kite in the sky.   
Harriet liked flying. Just not when dragons were trying to eat her.  
She missed Buckbeak.   
She wandered if Hagrid was okay or if his Blast Ended Skrewts had eaten him yet. Harriet sure hoped not. It sounded like a most unpleasant way to go.   
However, she couldn’t be too sure. It was probably better than being tortured to death by Deatheaters.  
“Let’s get you up and lying down,” James said gently, grabbing her right elbow as Harry carefully grabbed the other. Together, they slowly traipsed to the couch with little to no help from Harriet, whose legs were too shaky to support her weight.  
The couch was soft, like a cloud, or cream cheese. With the fuzzy blanket draped over her, Harriet thought she might be in heaven.   
Was there such thing as heaven? Harriet hoped her parents were somewhere nice like heaven.  
A cold drop of mystery liquid that spat and stung was applied to her forehead, making Harriet grumble and try to bury her face in the pillows.   
“We’re just healing a cut,” someone murmured. Harriet was too tired to tell who.   
“Sleep,” a bodiless voice whispered.  
So she did.

***

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked as she walked into the kitchen. Ron was buried under several books as he scanned a page feverishly. His eyes were bloodshot, face pale. Hermione didn’t think she had ever seen him stare at a book so intently. She wasn’t sure she had even stared at a book so intently.  
“You left some of your research out last night,” Ron explained, not taking his eyes off the page. “Thought I’d help.”  
Hermione frowned before stepping forward to sit next ti her friend. “How long have you been up?”  
“Dunno. What time is it?”  
Glancing at the clock on the kitchen wall, Hermione muttered “Just gone half past three.”  
“Mmm,” he hummed. “Probably two hours then?”  
Hermione couldn’t help but sigh. “Ron! You need to sleep!”  
“So do you!” He hotly retorted.  
A thick stillness entered the kitchen, the only sound coming from the quiet ticking of the clock in the corner. Hermione exhaled slowly before grabbing the closest book and opening the page.   
She supposed reading would be better with company.  
Mrs Weasley found the two teens as she quietly entered the kitchen at 6:30. More books than she remembered Hermione leaving last night were scattered about the room. Hermione and Ron sat side by side, leaning against each other as if their exhaustion was so great that they needed each other to keep upright. Both of them held a thick, musty book that must have been hundreds of years old.   
Mrs Weasley couldn’t help the small ball of resentment bubble up within her. She knew it wasn’t a good idea to tell the children so much about Harriet’s disappearance. She knew how much they loved her, how they would do anything to make sure she was safe. Now, it was the third morning that she had found them buried under texts despite the fact she had chastised them thoroughly multiple times. No matter what she said, the two of them wouldn’t listen.  
Quietly, she spelled the stove on before cracking eggs on the frying pan. Making sure the spatula was ready to remove them when they were properly cooked, she prepared three cups of tea before sitting across from the two teens and taking a book.  
For the next two hours, order members would filter groggily in to the kitchen, preparing themselves breakfast or tea quietly before sitting heavily down on the table. Some would eat their breakfast before picking up a book whereas others would make a beeline for the unread stack. By 8:30, they had run out of books, much to the chagrin of Ron and Hermione. Sirius was quick to reassure them that there was more in the Black Family Library, quickly exiting the kitchen and coming back with a stack so large that they were resting against his head to keep from falling.   
Each order member silently grabbed a book.  
No one said anything for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW panic attacks, nightmares, gore, torture.


End file.
